One of my most painful early memories was the day you left home – I suppose I must have been about eleven – and although there may have been a build-up to the day you left, in my mind it seemed like one minute you were there and the next you were gone. I don’t remember any big goodbye, any hugs or any words being spoken, just emptiness. I can’t say we were particularly close at that time – I am sure the age gap must have felt huge which I am sure was normal for siblings but the devastation I felt still stays with me today and even while writing these words I am fighting back the tears.
I felt so alone at home. When you were there you were both company for me and a buffer against him. After you left all I remember is the constant tension in the house, the aggression, the fighting and the hard work. We have often discussed the fact that my being feisty probably protected me from any unwanted attention but I had no idea what you were going through at the time. There must be some basic instinct that you have as a child because I would do anything not to be left in the house with him on my own after you left. I also begged Mum not to leave me at home alone with him but more often than not she would.
Vanessa tells me that well before John had ever tried anything on with her she was instinctively aware that something wasn’t right with him. There were the cuddles on the sofa but only when Mum wasn’t there or the way he would creep up to the bedroom at the top of the house very quietly when she was getting undressed for bed. Like me, she had this constant feeling of dread when he was around. He cornered her one day in the pool shed at the bottom of the garden and this time it went beyond kisses. She says she can remember the smell of the chlorine that was stored in there, the tools on the shed wall and the way the light struggled to poke through the two small grimy windows on the left-hand side. She knew what he did was wrong. She just didn’t know what to do about it.
When my marriage broke up Vanessa was there for me. Since then we have seen each other through joy, drama, sadness and some seriously fun times. Vanessa had enjoyed her time at school and followed it up with secretarial college. At one time she wanted to do something with aero-planes. She often talked about being an air traffic controller or an airline pilot, a direction which she obviously picked up from my father’s love of flying planes. At the same time she was always being told by friends how beautiful she was – she’s blonde with large, almond eyes, gorgeous olive skin and a fantastic figure – and they suggested she should model, so she joined an agency and did this for a while. She also did some modelling for Ann Summers but it was not something she wanted to pursue in a major way. In 1983 she joined me in the business. She was looking for pocket money so I started her off in the post room and she soon became one of the operators on our orderline.
Vanessa moved around the company and was eventually reporting directly to me. There were times when she forgot we were in a business relationship and she would cross boundaries – as when she burst into my office unannounced to tell me she was angry about something, but then she was at that time only seventeen. She soon realised that this sort of behaviour wasn’t appropriate for the office. Like me, she has worked in many different areas of the business including, marketing, design and buying and merchandising, which has given her a wealth of knowledge across the whole business. Vanessa has always shown great passion and commitment towards Ann Summers and in 2000 I was very proud to be able to promote her to Buying Director. She excels in many areas especially product development, which is critical to our business, and negotiating – thanks, to Vanessa, we now have one of the best margins on the high street. She is a great communicator at all levels which has been particularly valuable when dealing with councils. If you have members of your family working for you, you need to establish that a job in the business is an opportunity, rather than a birthright, and Vanessa has earned her position in the company.
When we’re not working we both love getting dressed up and going out. We had both lived such a sheltered life that the times Vanessa came around to my house in Chaldon in the 1980s to go out were a major event in themselves. We would spend a lot of time getting ready, listening to music and chatting. In some ways the drive to the bar or club was the most exciting part – this was hardly surprising, given that the night out would consist of the two of us driving to the place, going in, ordering a soft drink and waiting on the side of the dance floor for either Taylor Dayne’s ‘Tell It To My Heart’ or Womack & Womack’s ‘Teardrops’ before leaving to go home! We still laugh about it to this day.
As our world has become bigger and we have expanded our social horizons, we’ve had some very amusing times. One of these happened at the Emporium nightclub in Leicester Square in the late 1990s. Vanessa and I were meeting our friend Anna-Marie and she’d invited us into the club’s VIP area. As we entered we didn’t realise that the bouncer needed to stamp our hand as proof of entry, so when we left our bags, coats and champagne to go and have a dance we were horrified to find on our return that he wouldn’t let us back in. I tried to explain the situation in my normal business-like manner, but he was a typical ‘jobsworth’ with a serious power attitude and refused to even listen to what I had to say. Vanessa then went to the bar, hoping to find somebody more helpful. In my wisdom (and out of sheer desperation) I had taken a long run at the steps leading to the VIP area, hoping to dodge the six-foot bouncer. Vanessa says she has no idea what I thought I would achieve but I succeeded in being caught, lifted and manhandled to the dance floor with the words ‘you are barred’. Vanessa could only look on with horror.
All was not lost. A few minutes later a smartly dressed gentleman appeared and asked what was wrong – on explaining our predicament, he clicked his fingers at the bouncer who begrudgingly let us back into the VIP area. The gentleman then invited us into another room, advising us that a prince from India wanted to have a drink with Vanessa. Out of curiosity we went into this private room, where a man was sitting on his own surrounded by an entourage of about twenty men. It was a unique experience but we soon got bored and Vanessa was desperately trying to think of a polite way to make our escape. She leant over to the prince and told him it was time to go as her sister had had a little too much to drink – he offered his driver to take us home but when she declined he stood up and said he would escort us to the front door. As she passed by me she told me to act drunk as this was our way of leaving. With that, the prince, Vanessa, his bodyguard and I made our way to the front of the club. In my haste I grabbed the banister which was an unfixed rope, lost my footing and fell down the stairs. Vanessa came to help me and whispered in my ear, ‘I said act drunk, but not that drunk!’
I suppose it may be because of my professional position, but many people seem to think I am the sensible sister when, in truth, that title should belong to Vanessa (but I’m not supposed to say that). While I may be in control professionally, it is she who often takes charge socially. In 1998, when I was newly single, Vanessa and I were on our way to a bar in Croydon with a friend called Leigh. I was listening intently to the stories Leigh was telling us in the car, all about her one-night stands. At the time the concept of a one-night stand was unknown to me; I had never had one. Vanessa was watching me and told me later that she could already see this was a dangerous subject, given my new single status. When we got to the bar I was keen to continue the discussion but Vanessa, concerned that the discussion may lead to some sort of action, decided to step in. My dreams of a wild night of passion with a handsome stranger were quickly dashed as Vanessa said in her most sensible and slightly alarmed voice, ‘Jacqueline … not in Croydon!’
Our love of girlie nights of getting ready with loud music and a glass or two of rosé hasn’t changed one bit over the years. These days we have a great group of girlfriends, a much wider love of music, loads more confidence and no longer seem to have problems getting onto the VIP list! As with all relationships, there are days where we are grumpy with each other, but they are few. We see each other almost every day – our offices are next door to each other and there w
ill always be time for a quick catch up at least once during the day as we both attend to our various meetings and commitments. We have dinner at least once a week with Dad and often again on our own. Then there are the shopping trips – we are both girlie girls and love fashion. We also adore time with our girlfriends, pink champagne and plenty of good-looking, male attention. While I am known by family and friends as a ‘fixer’ and will not give up until a problem is solved, Vanessa is wise beyond her years and the advice she gives is sound and sensible. And she is also a great storyteller, just like our father.
She is unbelievably protective of me and will drop anything if I need her. Although I now live about fifteen minutes from her, she used to live exactly one mile away, door to door, close enough for me to call on her when I needed her help. She has often been called late at night to deal with a gigantic spider that had broken through the window, run up my stairs and placed itself in an aggressive manner near my bed. She would arrive to find me standing frozen with fear on the bed, waiting for her to wrestle with the spider and save me.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dancing with drugs
Not too many businesses can justify having a troupe of dancers, but we can. One of the joys of a company like Ann Summers is that there are so many opportunities for innovative marketing. The idea of having a Roadshow originated in 1987 when one of our party organisers created a fashion show with a few girls and guys she knew. Wearing Ann Summers outfits, they danced in nightclubs while she canvassed both party bookings and recruits. One night some of my area managers invited me along to one of these shows, in Uxbridge, Middlesex. While the dancers were all pretty sexy, one of the male dancers caught my eye – he was just gorgeous with an amazing body. His name was Ben. He was twenty-four, four years my junior and once we got talking I found out he was confident and intelligent, which just made him even more attractive. In all, he was quite a package and I really fancied him.
By 1988 the dancers had been reinvented as the Ann Summers Xperience and were playing to delighted audiences abroad as well as in Britain. Working on the premise that you can never have too much of a good thing, we launched another dance group, Xcalibur, five years later which Ben would eventually join. While Xperience had both girls and guys who danced raunchily, Xcalibur was an all-male group, more along the lines of the Chippendales. I can’t tell you how difficult it was to find five men who looked delicious, could dance and were happy removing their clothes. Never being one to shirk a challenge, I searched high and low, initially seeking out an existing dance group with a view to training them. That didn’t work so we were at a bit of a loss, when Vanessa and I had a chance meeting with a blond Adonis called Steve Golding. Of all the places in the world, we found him in a wine bar in Croydon! He had modelled but was finding times a bit lean and was definitely open to new things. A meeting was set and that was how, one very pleasant day, Steve turned up at our offices with four tanned, trim and gorgeous men. Now all we had to do was turn them into a hot and disciplined dance troupe. It took a bit of work but they became a huge success – it’s amazing the effect a group of men in G-strings can have on an audience of women. Unfortunately, the women can get a bit overexcited, with some of the dancers suffering scratches and bruising, as well as having their underwear torn off in the heat of the moment.
Tony and I were still in the throes of separation when I met Ben so for a while things were just kept simmering at friendship level, but there was no doubt we were both very interested. I went to watch more shows, which meant we began to see each other more often, until a few months later in 1988 we began a relationship. It was Ben who made the first move, something which appeals to a certain old-fashioned side of me. He was an electrician by day and a dancer by night and we got on very well, even though his lifestyle was very different to mine. We became inseparable very quickly – within the limits of my work schedule and his shows! We went out a lot to nightclubs and parties; we went on holidays and we led a very busy social life. It was a complete contrast to my previous relationships.
Ben represented a new, expansive phase in my life. When he came along it was as if he’d tapped into something that was already in me: a desire to get out there and discover the world, to meet new people and open my mind to new experiences. I was already going places as a young businesswoman and now I wanted to do the same in my personal life. When we were together it was always fun and incredibly exciting. So was the sex: when we first met we were having sex up to six times a day. I hadn’t had anything like that and I soon discovered why. Apparently before he met me he’d been taking steroids to give him the body he wanted. But they had also impaired his sex drive. By the time we got together he’d started taking testosterone to counteract their effect. He went through a transition phase while the testosterone was working and eventually his body found what I suppose was its natural level. But even when things cooled down and we weren’t having sex six times a day, it was still pretty frequent and it was wonderful.
Like Tony, Ben was ambitious. He’d mentioned a few times that he didn’t want to be an electrician all his life. So when I casually suggested that he’d make a great salesman, he jumped at the idea and almost immediately began to look for a sales position. Initially, the recruitment agencies weren’t interested in him because of his lack of experience, but then one came back with a job offer which would be based in the City. Ben was really excited and applied. We were about to go to Tenerife for a week’s holiday so the agency made an interview appointment for his return. He was absolutely overflowing with confidence and was sure the job was his. When we got back from holiday things had changed, and the position had been taken while he was away. Poor Ben! He had bought a new suit especially and had mentally prepared himself. I didn’t know what to say. On the day of the interview he suddenly went and put his suit on, saying he was going to go to it anyway, and would pretend he was unaware the job had now been taken. He duly went off and was seen. They asked him loads of questions, gave him the usual psychometric tests and he got the job. That was typical of Ben’s attitude and it was hard not to admire him, particularly as he had a mortgage and he was taking a risk stepping outside his comfort zone.
I really respect people who take calculated risks, whether it’s personally or in business. How many people are out there now thinking they want to change their jobs, move to the country or go back to study but haven’t got the courage and determination to do it? It’s very easy to talk about an idea – anyone can do that – but just having it does not make you clever. The people who have the guts to act on their ideas win my admiration. You generally won’t find them saying things like, ‘I’ll do it in a couple of years, I haven’t got the money now or it’s not the right time.’ The truth is that there is hardly ever a ‘right time’ – it’s up to you to decide that the time is right for you. If you find yourself in a situation where you’re worrying what will happen if you do take a particular course of action, why not ask yourself instead, ‘What will happen if I don’t?’ The alternative is to end up being one of those people who thought about it but never did it.
Ben took to his new life in sales like a duck to water, working in the City for a year before he was transferred to Reigate. Though he was also still dancing with Xperience by night, we nevertheless managed to have a fantastic relationship with a surprisingly good social life. I often think the more you do, the more you can fit in and that was certainly the case with us. We worked hard and played hard. The fact that he was also one of our dancers didn’t cause him any problem, partly I think because he wasn’t directly responsible to me and partly because, unlike Tony, he seemed not to suffer any insecurities associated with my success. I found that refreshing because I could just go ahead and be me.
The dancers are a big attraction at our Annual Conference, which they usually open. In 1992 one of my staff suggested that it would have even more impact if the Managing Director were to join the act and that is how I came to find myself in a dance studio in Fulham getting hot and s
weaty with a group of hunky men, including my boyfriend. You have to remember I was still a fairly reserved person back then who was concentrating on running a business, so this was very out of character. We took it extremely seriously and practised for months beforehand. It felt like I was preparing for the TV series Faking It, where they take people from one occupation and teach them a totally different one. Ben was brilliant about it all and very comfortable with the idea. The rest of the troupe were somewhat bemused at having their normally groomed and suited boss cavorting about with them and I was terrified of making a fool of myself. However, on the day of the performance, once the music started I suddenly just clicked into the routine and when the audience began applauding me, it just made me want to go for it. Situations in which executives step outside their usual role and try and be ‘one of the people’ can often be seen as gimmicky. Sometimes it can even backfire on them, leaving them looking silly. In this case, it worked brilliantly because it was totally appropriate to the culture of our business and completely unexpected.
I may have been in charge of a thriving company but I was still naïve about life in so many respects. It was at least a few years after meeting Ben that I realised he was doing drugs. I had never encountered the drug culture – I didn’t even smoke cigarettes – so being with someone to whom it became a daily ritual was a major shock. I didn’t initially understand how Ben could be a great salesman by day (he was very good) and dance at night. Now I know he was doing speed. Later on it became cocaine and then all sorts of other things. However, at the time I was in love with him and, even if I had known from the beginning, I suspect that I would have accepted it as I am not a judgemental person. I would equally have been naïve enough to not realise the negative impact it would later have on our relationship.
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